


Juggie?

by welshyak



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, F/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Trauma, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-04 11:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10276868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welshyak/pseuds/welshyak
Summary: “It’s going to be okay, Betts, it’s going to be okay. Stay with me.” Jughead was overwhelmed with alarm; the lamenting klaxons in his mind clawed at him, threatening a breach in sanity.But luckily, Pop had seen Betty and Jughead, and ran immediately through the restaurant. He opened the door.“Jughead!” he yelled.“Pop, call an ambulance! Betty’s been…” Jughead choked; his voice strangled, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.(Betty gets shot.)





	1. In the Parking Lot of Pop Tate's Chock'lit Shoppe

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader,  
> This first chapter contains some pretty high-anxiety situations, lots of blood, and lots of panic. If you cannot handle this kind of stuff, then you're probably ok to not read this chapter (you can surmise what happens, probably).  
> For those of you who enjoy this kind of thing, I hope you like it!  
> Please leave a comment at the end critiquing me!! This is my second fic ever, so I think I need all the criticism I can get.  
> NOTE: The next chapter will be posted on March 15th, 2017!  
> my tumblr is under the same name, welshyak.tumblr.com, in case you wanted to get fic updates!  
> shout out to my excellent editor, kitseybarbours, she writes great fics!!

     It had been a long day in the office of the Blue and Gold. Betty and Jughead had been through the all the leads on Jason’s murder that they’d had, if only in the hope of finding something they had previously overlooked. Unsurprisingly, nothing came up. It was past seven o’clock when they finally decided to give up, and both were starving.  
     “Wanna get something from Pop’s?” Jughead suggested, taking off his beanie and ruffling his hair in exhausted frustration. Betty couldn’t help but watch as he did so.  
     “Sure,” she sighed, and started packing up her things.  
     It was a slow walk to Pop’s, partly because they were so tired, but also because they (well, mostly Jughead) were describing what they wanted to get. Jughead described the texture of a chocolate malt in great detail to Betty, who was listening patiently.  
     In his dark clothes, and with his usually broody demeanour, he looked almost at home under the gloom of the orange streetlights. The colour of the light on his face seemed to complement his pale features in a way that sunlight couldn't. Jughead looked at her. She realized he had asked her a question, and realized too late that she had been staring.  
     “What? Sorry, what was the question, Juggie?”  
     “Something on your mind, Cooper?” he asked with a wry smile. Even under the orange light, he saw her blush clear as day. His heart stuttered, but he didn’t know why. That was something to think about later, when the insatiable void in his a stomach had been, however temporarily, appeased.  
     “No; I’m just a little preoccupied with the case, is all,” she lied.  
     “Betty, we can solve it, I’m sure of it. We’ll find the killer.” Jughead was so earnest; it made Betty smile, and gave her hope.  
     “Yeah, I hope you’re right.”  
     “I know I’m right.” He side-eyed her as she smiled. She had a smile that made the night seem a little brighter. He smiled back.  
     They made it to the parking lot of Pop’s. Jughead and Betty strolled through the parking lot, laughing, when they heard a crack. Even to Jughead’s untrained ear, it sounded like a gunshot. His heart started to beat faster, immediately on alert, and he whipped his head in the direction from which the sound came. There was only silence.  
     “Juggie?” Betty said faintly.  
  
     Time is a funny thing; when one witnesses - or is a part of -a traumatizing event, the passage of time becomes arbitrary. One moment may drag on forever, and another may accelerate instantaneously. Every breath, heartbeat, or blink can take either an eternity or a second to complete. For Jughead, time slowed to a complete stop. As he dragged his eyes away from Betty’s, down to her hands, which were clasped over her stomach, Jughead could feel each and every interval of dread developing in the pit of his stomach. He watched as blood started to leak through her fingers, trickling out millilitre by millilitre, slowly dropping to the ground. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It must have been a trick, _it must have been_. Rage reached out its’ fiery hands and gripped Jughead’s heart, making it beat so hard as to make it painful. _Why her? Why not take me instead?_ Silence answered him, and Jughead became empty, his mind thoroughly cleared of every thought. Jughead heard his heart thump in his ears. _I couldn’t have stopped this_. The realization kick-started time once more, and Jughead took action, heart hammering against his ribs.  
     “Betty! Fuck! _Betty_!” He scrambled to her as her legs gave out, holding her gently and lowering her to the ground, as she whimpered. “It’s going to be okay, Betts, it’s going to be okay. Stay with me.” Jughead was overwhelmed with alarm; the lamenting klaxons in his mind clawed at him, threatening a breach in sanity. _What next? What do I do?!_  
     But luckily, Pop had seen Betty and Jughead, and ran immediately through the restaurant. He opened the door.  
     “Jughead!” he yelled.  
     “Pop, call an ambulance! Betty’s been…” Jughead choked; his voice strangled, and he couldn’t finish the sentence. He felt his eyes stinging.  
     He saw Pop run back into the Chock’lit Shoppe and pick up the phone.  
     “Juggie,” Betty whispered. Her breathing was shallow, her sweater stained red with blood.  
     “Okay, Betty, Pop’s calling for an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.” Jughead stared desperately into Betty’s eyes, and she in his direction, her gaze unfocused.  
     Jughead tore off one of his flannel layers, wadded it into a ball, and placed it on Betty’s stomach. She whimpered in pain and coughed, choking on her own blood, which landed on Jughead’s face. There was no time to wipe it off. Jughead pressed harder on the flannel; he felt something warm on his knees, and realized it was blood. Betty’s blood. _Was there supposed to be this much blood?_ Jughead didn’t know, but it was hard to ignore the hot wetness. Jughead could feel his heart beating in his ears, fluttering like a hummingbirds’ wings. He talked to Betty, though she looked through him, millions of miles away.  
      “You better stay with me, Elizabeth Cooper. You’re not done yet, I swear! You can’t die on me, Betty, you can’t! You need to finish the case! You need to graduate and go to university! You can’t die yet; I need you to live!”  
     He was crying, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Betty survived. Her breathing under his hands was weak and shallow, the sound of it amplified in Jughead’s mind. He didn’t hear the sirens growing closer; it was only minutes before the ambulance arrived, but to Jughead, time seemed to stretch into infinity.  
     The two paramedics took over the scene with authority, which Jughead was all too ready to give up. He watched from a distance as they loaded Betty onto the stretcher, and lifted her in. One of the paramedics looked over to Jughead, standing vulnerable in the oscillating blue and red light of the ambulance.  
     “We can’t take you, I’m sorry. She’s losing too much blood; she needs all the help she can get, and right away.”  
     The paramedic gave Jughead a pitying look. Jughead nodded, mute and in shock. The doors to the ambulance closed, and Betty was rushed away. Jughead was left standing, hands tight in fists, staring at the puddle of blood in the middle of Pop’s parking lot.  
     Suddenly a hand was on his shoulder. Eyes wide, he looked up at Pop’s somber face.  
     “Come inside, kid. There’s nothing more you can do now; they’ll make sure she’s okay.”  
     Pop steered Jughead in the direction of the Chock’lit Shoppe, and Jughead numbly followed. Jughead’s mind was free of any thought; he barely registered walking into the restaurant.  
     He found himself in the bathroom, looking into the mirror. The person on the other side was not Jughead Jones. The face was too pale, the lips too white, the eyes too frightened. The bags under his tired eyes were bruises. He looked closer. Specks of blood were sitting timidly on his face, waiting to be noticed. He brought his hand up to rub them away, and noticed that his hand was covered in bright red blood. Betty’s blood. That snapped him back to reality.

_What if Betty dies?_

  
      Jughead turned on the tap and hot water poured over his hands. _What if Betty dies?_ He scrubbed hard, until the water was burning his hands. _What if Betty dies?_ He didn’t stop, he couldn’t breathe. _She can’t die._ Jughead was panicking, he knew it, but there was nothing he could do but let it happen. S _he just can’t, it can’t happen._ He scrubbed furiously, his hands redder than they had been before. His heart surged faster and faster, blood rushing so hard in his ears it drowned out all other sound. _There had been so much blood._ He could feel the bile start to rise in his throat, and he ripped away from the sink to make it to the toilet. _What if she dies?_

Jughead threw up. He felt dizzy, and lightheaded. Jughead’s breaths came too quick, too deep. He collapsed on the floor.


	2. Burnt Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He found himself in the emergency room, the glare of the bright lights hurting his eyes. He spied Alice Cooper sitting in a corner of the waiting room, alone, wiping tears from her red and puffy eyes, trying to fix her makeup. Jughead needed to know what was happening to Betty (has she died?), and Alice Cooper would be the one to ask. Jughead dragged one of the chairs over to sit across from her."

     Jughead woke up to Pop shaking his shoulder, the lock on the door completely busted.

     “Hey, son, it’s good to see you’re still alive.” Pop looked concerned, but Jughead couldn’t bring himself to care. 

    “I gotta get to Betty,” he slurred, trying to pick himself up off the floor. His head was spinning, but he managed to get up, much to Pop’s protests. Jughead stumbled out of the bathroom, using the booths and the chairs to haul himself to the door, making an effort to stand straight and regain his balance. Jughead shoved the door open and fell out of the Chock’lit Shoppe, leaving the few customers, who’d had left their dinners unfinished for a while now, to watch him go.

     “He’ll be okay, Jughead knows how to take care of himself,” Pop said, trying to console the customers. “Everybody, you might as well pack up. I’m closing.” The customers left quickly, stricken with silence by the events that had occurred not half an hour ago. Pop slowly began closing up shop. He was glad he’d called Alice Cooper, too; she was undoubtedly worried sick about her daughter.

     Outside, the gentle sprinkle of rain mixed with the blood, washing it into the drain at the centre of the parking lot. Jughead stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, hunched his shoulders in the cold, and started to walk towards Riverdale Hospital. The blood glued his shirt to his skin, but Jughead didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t care. 

   It was a long walk, however, all Jughead could remember of it was hearing his feet splash in the puddles on the sidewalks, water soaking through to his worn socks. 

    He found himself in the emergency room, the glare of the bright lights hurting his eyes. He spied Alice Cooper sitting in a corner of the waiting room, alone, wiping tears from her red and puffy eyes, trying to save her makeup. Jughead needed to know what was happening to Betty ( _has she died?_ ), and Alice would be the one to ask. Jughead dragged one of the chairs over to sit across from her.

    “Hi, Mrs. Cooper.”

     Alice Cooper looked up in surprise, then narrowed her eyes. She spoke in a deadly whisper. 

    “You had something to do with this, didn’t you?” 

    Jughead was tired of talking. “What’s happening to Betty right now?” Even to his own ears he sounded dead on his feet. 

    Alice Cooper was a reporter; she’d worked on many stories for the local Riverdale news. As a reporter and investigative journalist - as well as a mother - she had a few tricks up her sleeve to get to the facts behind the stories people told her. One way to find the facts was to simply look, to take in the scene around her, or the clothing and the face of whoever she was interviewing. Alice took in the face of Jughead Jones the Third; trying to find a reason to accuse him. Jughead’s eyes were as puffy and red as hers, his face so pale it looked like he’d seen a ghost, or perhaps like he was one himself. Betty’s blood lightly peppered his features, and he sat forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. It almost looked like Jughead was pleading, but to whom, Alice didn’t know. She gave up; Alice was far too tired and worried to be angry at this point. She could save her anger for when Betty… She didn’t want to finish that sentence.

     She sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. “Betty’s in surgery. The doctor said the bullet” – she said the word with a grimace – “pierced one of her arteries, and that she was bleeding out fast.” Alice’s eyes held filled with tears, and her brows were furrowed, exactly how Betty’s were when she was concentrating.

      Jughead’s stomach dropped through to his wet shoes. “Do you mind if I wait with you?” he asked.

     Alice nodded her head, wiping at her tear-streaked face, attempting to fix her eye makeup.

     “Betty’s dad is out of town at a conference, but once I told him the news, he said he’d come straight home.” Jughead and Mrs. Cooper sat in silence, impatiently waiting to hear news from the operation room.

     It was a tense eight hours. Jughead brought them burnt coffee multiple times, which Alice Cooper took without sparing him a glance. Finally, the surgeon appeared, and walked over to Alice.

    “Mrs. Cooper?” The surgeon asked. She nodded, and they shook hands. The surgeon gave her an exhausted smile. 

    “The surgery went fine; however, there were some complications.”

     Alice and Jughead held their breath, fearing the worst outcome.

     “The artery in question was punctured in such a way that made it difficult to repair. We did the best we could, but we’ve had to put her into a coma so that she has time to heal fully. I should mention, there is a definite possibility that the resulting increase in heart rate may tear the artery again if we miscalculate the amount of time she needs to be under. In fact, it may never heal properly.” The surgeon paused. “Mrs. Cooper, you have to understand, that although the chances are she’ll survive, there is also a definite possibility that she may not recover.”

     “Well, you’d better not miscalculate, then,” Alice growled.

     “When are we allowed to see her?” Jughead asked.

     “Anytime, but you understand, she’ll be asleep.”

     “Of course, of course.” Alice watched as the doctor walked away, staring daggers into his back.

    Once the doctor was out of sight, Alice looked at Jughead and gave him a tiny hopeful smile, then frowned, as if she had remembered at whom she was smiling.

     “I still hate you,” said Alice Cooper.

     “I know.”

     “Let’s go see my girl.” Alice said, standing up on stiff legs. Jughead followed her through to the front desk, watching as Betty’s mom transformed from a weepy mess to a woman as fragile and sharp as a thin shard of glass. Just another thing Betty had inherited from her mother, Jughead supposed, was her ability appear powerful even her weakest moments.

    They made their way to her room, past nurses and carts of medical supplies. 

    Jughead, despite not wanting to, looked into the rooms as they went along. Since it was just after two in the morning; most patients were asleep, but some were reading, some watching TV. Jughead wondered what he would do if he were in a hospital bed. He didn’t want to think about it too much.

     They found the room, and Alice walked in first. Jughead hesitated on the threshold, second-guessing how welcome he would be in such an intimate moment.

     “Get in here,” Alice ordered, looking over her shoulder. Jughead decided to enter.

     Betty was lying in the hospital bed, looking small and frail, covers tucked up under her arms. She was intubated, and a pump beside her bed breathed for her. She still had tape over her eyes from the surgery.

    The image of Betty in this state imprinted itself on Jughead’s brain. He would remember this forever. He didn’t know what to say, but looked on as Alice dissolved again into tears and stroked her daughter’s hair. Seeing Betty like this made Jughead sick; he had to leave, and leave _now_.

     He turned to go, and bumped into Sheriff Keller.

     “Come with me, Jughead,” Keller said, taking in Jughead’s bloody face, “We need to take your statement.” He turned to look at Betty’s mom, who was holding her daughter’s hand, and told her, “We’ll come back for you, so stay put.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well wasn't this fun?! Being in Schrödinger's ideal purgatory with Alice Cooper is as enjoyable as swallowing a wasps nest! Jughead's having a really great day.
> 
> NOTE: The next chapter will be up tomorrow, March 16th, 2017!  
> I really hope you like the next chapter, I used up a lot of my monthly quota of imagination on it. 
> 
> As always, thank you to my amazing beta, kitseybarbours! she is so amazing, she deserves all the cookies she can get!
> 
> My tumblr is welshyak.tumblr.com if you ever wanted to get fic updates.


	3. Black Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She was wildly underdressed for this kind of weather. Betty shivered, wrapping her sweater around her, and hugged her arms close to her chest. She knew if she stayed here for much longer, she’d turn into an icicle."

 

     Betty didn’t know where she was. Well, she knew what kind of place it was: a forest; but she didn’t know how she’d gotten there, or where the forest, and therefore she, was. There was frost on the limbs of the trees, and a thin layer of fog whispered around her ankles. Leaves fell from above, golden and red, but the leaves on the trees were still their summer green. _Very curious_ , Betty thought.  
      She was wearing yellow - her favourite colour - but she was wildly underdressed for this kind of weather in her capri pants, ballet slippers, her thin shirt, and sweater. Betty shivered, wrapping her sweater around her, and hugged her arms close to her chest. She knew if she stayed here for much longer, she’d turn into an icicle.  
      Betty looked around her; all the trees looked the same, down to the very last detail. She shrugged off the cold, trying to dissuade the odd feeling growing in her stomach.  
      It was then that she spied a fluffy black tail in the distance.  
      “Hey!” She shouted at it, hoping it would stop. The fluffy tail turned around and revealed a charcoal black cat with bright, piercing green eyes. They stood in silence for a second, Betty anticipating something, but for what, she wasn’t aware.  
      “Well, aren’t you coming, then?” the cat prompted.  
      “Oh!” Betty exclaimed, not stopping to think about how on earth the cat could talk, and started walking towards it. There was a whisper of a doubt in her head, but it was brushed away when a harsh wind rattled through the trees, and a shower of red and gold leaves fell from the frosty-limbed trees.  
      “You’re in the Ever-Green Forest, if that’s what’s you're wondering.” The cat walked beside her, up to its belly in fog.  
      Betty thought the voice was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She nodded, taking in her surroundings. Another gust wind blew right through her.  
      “You’re lucky you have a fur coat; it’s so cold in here!”  
      The cat laughed, which was a sight to see. “You’re not the one treading fog here, Betts.”  
      Betty laughed, but stopped, surprised.  
      “How do you know my name?” asked Betty.  
      “I know everything.” The cat turned his head to look at her, and gave her a wry smile.  
      “Well,” Betty began, “I think it’s only fair that I know your name, if you know mine.”  
      The cat harrumphed ( _how?_ Betty wondered), and kept walking. “Smudge, if you must know.”  
      “Really!?”  
      “No.”  
      Betty visibly deflated.  
      “But that’s what you can call me.” Smudge navigated around a stump of a tree, and jumped up onto it, high enough to be able to look Betty in the eye.  
      “You hungry?” he asked.  
      Betty’s stomach growled. “Yes, are you?”  
      “I’m always hungry. Come on, let’s find your home so you can give me food, and maybe make some for yourself.” he added. Something about what he’d said seemed familiar to Betty, but the thought drifted away, chased with thoughts of warmth, and food. The cat jumped down from the stump, making the fog poof around him, and  Betty followed the cat, watching it flick its tail back and forth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well wasn't that interesting!? 
> 
> NOTE: Since this chapter is so short, I'm updating twice in one day!! Lucky!!
> 
> kitseybarbours is my beta, you should check out her stuff!
> 
> welshyak.tumblr.com is my blog, if you wanted to look at it (I post fic updates)


	4. The Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jughead felt like a ghost watching over his own body; he could hear himself speaking, but didn’t know where the words were coming from. All he knew was that he was tired, his body finally exhausted of all emotion. Jughead had no appetite, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat for a long time."

     Outside the hospital, the rain had been replaced by fog. The moon shone, incandescent, through the trees, creating beams of light that revealed the dance of the fog. It was chilly out, and Jughead shivered through his layers, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
      The ride to the station was short, and Jughead looked out the window into the night. Sheriff Keller took him to an interrogation room. Though Jughead was not guilty here, and knew it, he still bristled when the Keller stared at him from across the table. Jughead folded his arms and placed his familiar scowl on his face. It felt good to have it back on; it made Jughead feel a little bit safer.  
      Jughead recounted the events of the evening: how he and Betty had walked from the school to Pop’s, how he had heard a shot; how he saw the confusion in Betty’s eyes, helped her to lie down on the rough pavement, tried to stop the bleeding; Pop coming out from the shop, and running back in to call for an ambulance. How he had watched Betty, limp and almost lifeless, being lifted into the ambulance. How Pop had taken him in, and how he’d passed out on the bathroom floor after throwing up.  
      Jughead felt like a ghost watching over his own body; he could hear himself speaking, but didn’t know where the words were coming from. All he knew was that he was tired, his body finally exhausted of all emotion. Jughead had no appetite, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat for a long time.  
      Finally, the Sheriff let him out, shaking his hand. He couldn’t forget how saturated it used to be in Betty’s blood. Jughead shivered; he didn’t want to turn into Lady Macbeth. Out in the foyer of the Riverdale Police Station, Pop was sitting with crossed arms, mouth agape, eyes closed. He was soundly asleep. Jughead had forgotten how late it actually was; time had stopped existing for him when Betty left.  
      Pop had given his statement earlier, and had decided to wait for Jughead. How Jughead hadn’t noticed him sitting there in the office chairs that lined the waiting area, he didn’t know. Probably something to do with losing a close friend. Yeah, that’s probably it.  
      Jughead tried to sneak as silently as possible past Pop, but Pop had the ears of a bat. He snorted awake, and looked at the startled and exhausted hull of Jughead Jones.  
      “Jughead,” Pop greeted him wearily. “I stayed to make sure you were okay.”  
      “Yeah,” Jughead sighed, ruffling his hair and then replacing his beanie. “I’m okay. Just a little tired,” he lied.  
      “Is there anything I can do for you? Food, or someplace to sit?”  
      “No, I think I’m just going to go home,” Jughead lied again.  
      “I’m always here for you if you ever need help, okay, son?”  
      “Thanks, Pop.” Jughead tried a smile, but even Jughead knew it wasn’t convincing. He turned and walked out into the foggy night.  
      Pop understood that Jughead was, indeed, not okay. He was the very opposite of okay. But Pop also knew that Jughead was used to being on his own, to taking care of himself. He knew that Jughead would go where he needed to go, to heal from the shock of losing that girl. Pop saw how he looked at her, with such a pleased smile whenever he made her laugh. It was no wonder that he was in the state he was. It’s hard to lose someone you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Juggie :(
> 
> Well folks, that's for today!
> 
> NOTE: The next chapter is ~700 words long, and the one after that is ~1200... should I double post those as well? What do you think?
> 
> kitseybarbours is my wonderful beta!


	5. In Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Betty was only a little surprised. “After all that has happened today, I can believe anything!” she replied earnestly. Smudge chortled. “Just you wait and see Betts; just you wait and see.”"

     The trees around Betty and Smudge had started to change. It had grown warmer, a little, but the trees seemed to grow smaller and smaller, until they were the size of Smudge. For him, it was a thicket, and Betty could walk much easier through it than the cat could.  
      “Would you like me to pick you up, Smudge?”  
      “Yes,” he said decisively.  
      Betty knelt down and picked up the cat.  
      “Eugh,” Betty said, with a half-smile, half-grimace. “You’re all wet!”  
      “What can I say? Fog is a strange thing, Betts.”  
      Betty hummed, and put Smudge underneath her arm. She stepped through the small thicket and the landscaped changed.  
      They were walking on a blustery mountain hill, with short green grass and dots of small wildflowers. The air was sweet, if a bit cold for Betty’s thin and very yellow layers. The sun shone weakly through the rapidly moving clouds.  
      “You can put me down now, thank you.”  
      Betty lowered Smudge to the ground, surprised that his charcoal coat was completely dry and silky, buffeted in the wind.  
      Betty spotted a woman in the distance, standing and looking over the mountain valley with walking stick in hand. She was dressed in bright green. The cat headed towards the woman and meowed. Through the wind, she heard the sound, and turned.  
      The woman had a familiar face; She had strong features, keen eyes, and wavy blonde hair that danced around her face in the wind. She knelt down to greet Smudge.  
      “Hello there,” she said. “Who are you?”  
      “Smudge,” he replied, and accepted her pats stalwartly.  
      Betty strolled closer, and put her hands in her pockets, suddenly shy. The woman looked up, noticing Betty.  
      “And who are you, young miss?” She beamed at Betty.  
      “I’m Betty,” Betty said, and held out her hand to shake. “What’s your name?”  
      “Alice. At least I think so. It’s been so long since I’ve had to use it, it sounds a little unfamiliar.” Alice shook Betty’s hand with her calloused and well-worn one, her grip firm.  
      “We’re headed for home,” Smudge said, “Would you like to come along?”  
      “I’d love to! Nothing like some good company to warm the soul; that’s what my mother used to say.”  
      They all started walking together.  
      “Do you mind if I borrow your arm, Betty, dear? I’m not as young as I used to be, and this cold mountain wind has done no wonders for my bones, let me tell you.” She chuckled, and Betty laughed too. They walked down into the valley, crossing small puddles of water with what looked like small fish in them. How the fish got there,  Betty didn’t know, but she gingerly stepped around them anyway. All she knew was that she was getting colder and hungrier by the minute. She shivered.  
      “Oh, Betty, dear, you’re cold! Take my cape, I think you’ll be warmer.” Betty started to protest, but Alice was already taking it off. “Hold my stick, dear.” Betty did as she was told, resigned to the fact that the lady was helping her. Her cane was smooth, worn by years of use. There was a face carved in it: it looked like a man’s. Betty felt the cape cover her shoulders, but she kept looking at the cane. The wooden eyes seemed to twinkle at her, and a smile tugged at the corner of its mouth.  
      “Who is this?” asked Betty, looking at Alice. Alice’s eyes lost a little of their sparkle. Betty regretted bringing it up.  
      “Oh,” Alice sighed, taking the stick and looking at it fondly.”That’s the face of my husband, Hal.”  
      “What happened to him? If you don’t me asking, that is.” Betty slipped her arms through the slits of the emerald green cape.  
      Alice chuckled, regarding the face of her husband. “He got turned into a stick. Would you believe it?”  
      Betty was only a little surprised. “After all that has happened today, I can believe anything!” she replied earnestly. Smudge chortled in front of them.  
      “Just you wait and see Betts; just you wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiouser and curiouser! Alice in Wonderland indeed. 
> 
> Kitseybarbours is my beta!
> 
> Por todos y todas que hablan español, ¿quería que tradujera mis fics? Sería bastante bueno práctica para mí. :)  
> Pour tous et toutes qui parlent français, est-ce que vous vouliez que je traduise mes fics ? Elle serait bonne pratique pour moi. :)


	6. Blue and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jughead groaned and rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes. But all he could see was Betty. He could hear the heart monitor beeping, and the gentle whoosh of the pump; could see her chest rise and fall robotically to the flow of air."  
> Jughead is tired.

     Once again, Jughead was walking. The town looked surreal in the crepuscular rays of the full moon. The town was as still and as silent as Jughead felt. He headed towards the school, thinking that maybe he could work on the case to distract himself.  
He slipped into the school with a key he had (maybe) filched from the janitor, and walked to the offices of the Blue and Gold.  
      Without turning the lights on, he practically fell onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His mind raced through the day, what he could have done differently. Maybe if he hadn’t gone to help Betty with the case, or maybe if he had just stood a little more to the left, or maybe if they had chosen a different restaurant, or had just gone home… maybe then would Betty be breathing on her own. Maybe then she wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed, trapped in a jungle of tubes. Jughead groaned and rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes. But all he could see was Betty. He could hear the heart monitor beeping, and the gentle whoosh of the pump; could see her chest rise and fall robotically to the flow of air.  
      He had to wonder what would she say if she saw him like this. Would she be sweet? Understanding? Or would she want him to pull himself together? He could just imagine Betty now, hands on hips, trying to glare at him through her long eyelashes – but not being able to help the twitch of her lip, which gave away her façade.   Jughead smiled weakly at the thought.  
      What was he to her? For some reason, even after the non-communication in middle school, Betty and Jughead had reconnected so smoothly once they hit high school; for some reason, she wanted to keep talking to him, but Jughead couldn’t understand why. He pictured all the times he had been caught glancing at her, when she was writing something, getting something out of her locker, or talking to someone. Her blue doe-eyes always filled with warmth at the sight of him, and Jughead had to admit that it made him feel like there was sunshine inside him. Betty was his sun, and as far as he was concerned, without her, the world would be a much darker place. When she woke up – when; not if, but when –, Jughead made a promise to tell her how he felt. He didn’t want to spend another day without letting Betty know that she was loved. She deserved to know. Regardless of the consequences, Jughead resolved to tell her.  
      Jughead curled into a ball on the couch, beyond the reach of any emotion. Having made up his mind, he lay still and endured.  
…

     Slowly but surely, warm, soft light replaced the cold luminescence of the moon. Jughead notice it, as he was still fast asleep, curled in a loose ball on his side. Voices started to flutter through the air, like distant birdcalls. The sound became more cacaphonous, until it became a chatter, then a noise. Jughead remained oblivious.  
      Archie opened the door to the office, scanned the room, and found Jughead sleeping on the couch. He hesitated, but he needed to know what was going on.  
      Alice Cooper, in her despair, had called Fred Andrews to give the news to Archie. Archie woke up to his dad sitting at the foot of his bed, with a very somber look on his face, and the news that Betty was in the hospital, in critical condition; that Jughead had helped her until the ambulance arrived.  
      Archie had jumped out of bed, put on clothes, and run. He could only think of a few places Jughead would be: the hospital, Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, or the Blue and Gold. He’d checked all of them, ending up here at the office.  
      Archie walked over to Jughead, crouched down, and shook his friend by the shoulder.  
      “Jughead,” Archie whispered. Jughead gave no response. Archie shook harder. No response; Jughead was fast asleep.  
      Suddenly Veronica and Kevin poked her head through the door. Veronica caught Archie’s attention and brought him outside of the office.  
      “Thought you might need this.” Veronica proffered a take-out bag from Pop’s. She smiled conspiratorially.  
      “The way to Jughead’s heart is through his stomach, obviously.” Kevin said, rolling his eyes.  
      Archie smiled back. “Thanks, guys.” He grabbed for the bag, but Veronica pulled it out of his reach.  
      "No so fast there, Archie, ladies’ first. And Kevin.”  
      Veronica waltzed into the office, followed by Kevin and Archie. Archie crouched in front of the couch, Kevin sat nearby on the desk, and Veronica bent over and waved the bag of food in front of Jughead’s face. At first there was a sniff, then a groan.  
      “Morning, Jug.” Archie smiled.  
      Jughead didn’t turn over, but rubbed at his eyes and groaned at being awake. He enjoyed being asleep. He didn’t see Betty in a hospital bed when he slept. Being awake was a little bit like hell.  
      “Go wake up someone else, Archie,” Jughead moaned, but turned over, to look at Archie, Veronica, and Kevin with bleary eyes.  
      “Oh, fuck,” Kevin murmured in surprise. Now that they could see Jughead properly, they noticed the state of his clothes: Jughead’s face was covered in little specks of dried blood. There was blood under his fingernails, patches of blood coated his knees, and even more blood on his coat and shirt.  
      “What, do I have something on my face?” Jughead asked sardonically. He was not in the mood to be sincere.  
      “Come on, Jughead, don’t be like that.” Veronica said.  
      “Gimme the bag.” Jughead reached for the bag, but Veronica’s reflexes were quicker, and she pulled the food Jughead so desperately wanted out of reach.  
      “Jughead, you need to tell us everything. We need to know. Betty’s our friend too, you know,” Archie pointed out.  
      Jughead sighed. He sat up on the couch, rubbed at his face again, and nodded. Veronica set the bag on Jughead’s lap and joined him on the couch, looking at him worriedly.  
      Jughead didn’t realize how hungry he was. Must be something about last night; something to do with a little attempted murder, maybe, Jughead mused. He unwrapped the burger and took a sizeable bite out of it. He chewed it just enough to swallow it. Meanwhile, Archie recounted how he had heard the news. Jughead half-listened to, half-ignored his best friend, still imagining the precipice on which Betty’s life was balancing.  
      “Okay, now it’s your turn. Tell us everything,” Archie requested, once Jughead polished off his fries. Jughead complied.  
      Just as he had the night before, Jughead wearily related the tale to his friends, who listened intently all the while.  
      “Wow,” Kevin said when Jughead had finished. “I… I never knew Betty’s mom could actually be nice.” they laughed, and Jughead snorted too, surprised at himself; and then he sighed.  
      “I’m gonna skip class today and go see Betty again,” he decided. “Wanna come with?”  
      Archie, Veronica, and Kevin agreed. “Yes, but you need a shower and a change of clothes first. My house is on the way; you can borrow something of mine. Come on.” Archie said while getting up, and Jughead followed.  
      As soon as Jughead stepped into the crowded hallway, all eyes were on him: his pale, blood-speckled face, his garishly blood-soaked clothes. Jughead suddenly felt self-conscious, but put on his usual scowling face, avoiding everyone’s eyes. Jughead was surrounded by his closest friends, which made the eyes easier to bear, but no less threatening. Archie noticed the stares, and turned to Jughead.  
      “Oh, I forgot… Do you want to borrow–“  
      “I’m fine.” Jughead cut Archie off. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking, and quickly the rest of them followed.  
…

      Smudge led Betty, Alice, and Hal down and through the mountain valley, choosing each step carefully. Occasionally he got sidetracked by the fish.  
      “If you’re so hungry all the time,” Betty asked him, “why don’t you catch one?”  
      “Betty, you can’t just eat the mountain fish.” Smudge looked over his shoulder as he walked on.  
      “Why not?” asked Betty.  
      “Because,” Smudge sighed, “they insist on being eaten only when flambéed with horseradish. And I don’t have any of those ingredients on me right now.”  
      “What happens if you don’t eat them that way?” asked Alice.  
      “They flip around inside you until they come back up, of course.” Smudge grimaced. “I’ve learned my lesson one too many times.”  
      They came to a crystalline lake at the base of the valley.  
      Betty could hear the trickle of water in the distance. Pine trees lined the other side of the lake, standing straight upwards despite the steep incline of the hill.  
      “This next part is going to be unpleasant.” Smudge pawed at his face. He sighed and tiptoed into the water.  
      Alice did the same, calmer than Smudge. Betty paused at the edge, not sure what they were about to do.  
      “Come on, Betty, dear, it’s perfectly safe!” Alice cried, a ways out already.  
      Betty toed the water, finding it warm, despite being mountain-fed. She walked into the water after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that chapter! Poor Juggie, I hope he'll be ok :(
> 
> Kitseybarbours is my wonderful beta.
> 
> NOTE: Next chapter will probably be up tomorrow.


	7. Exercise in Futility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to see Betty.

     Archie, Jughead, Kevin, Veronica, and Fred walked through the once quiet hallways of the hospital, now filled with bustle and chatter.  
     They walked into Betty’s room. Outwardly, Betty hadn’t changed; she still had the same spectral look that had haunted Jughead since the night before. Alice sat in the same spot, and looked up at them as they entered. The only thing that was different about the scene was the exhausted Hal Cooper standing with his arms crossed at the foot of the bed, weary-eyed, with a stern scowl on his face. It looked like he was trying to fight Death for Betty simply by standing and watching over her.  
     Hal noticed Alice’s head move, and he turned his own to look at the newcomers. Veronica spoke quickly:  
     “Mr. Cooper, I’m so sorry for – “  
     Hal ignored him, or maybe didn’t hear Veronica speak. He had spotted Jughead, and his scowl turned to rage. He leapt on    Jughead and shoved him up against the wall.  
     “You son-of-a bitch! You shot my daughter!”  
     They all leapt into action, crying out, trying to get Hal to let go of Jughead’s borrowed clothes.  
     After a brief struggle, they managed to get Hal to relinquish his grip, and Jughead slumped against the wall for support. Hal struggled free again and socked Jughead in the face.  
     That was a blow that Jughead didn’t see coming, and, caught off guard, he fell to the floor. He tried to stand again, but was kicked in the stomach. Jughead’s breath left him; he saw stars.  
Drawn by Fred and Archie’s shouts, hospital security entered the room, took over, and ushered a still-raging Hal out of the building.  
     Jughead inhaled painfully, fighting for breath. The kick radiated pain through his abdomen to his spine. He wondered briefly if this was how Betty had felt.  
     Kevin knelt down and helped Jughead into a sitting position, another security officer watching over them.  
     “You okay, Jughead?” Archie asked worriedly.  
     There seemed to be a knot in Jughead’s throat, hampering his speech. He nodded his head and tried to breathe normally.   After everything that happened, he had begun to cry.  
     It was not the type of crying that people usually noticed. It was the kind where he sat like a statue, head in his hands, and tried not to move, breathe, or let out any sound. The kind where the occasional tear fell from his swollen eye, against it’s better judgement. The kind that made Jughead feel like he wanted to turn invisible.  
     Kevin and Veronica sat down next to Jughead and let him ride it out.  
     Sarcasm was Jughead’s main form of defence. A quip was always at hand when he was irritable, which, due to certain...unfortunate circumstances in his life, happened quite often. However, there were some times when his emotions became so great that even his sharp words could not help him. In those times, Jughead became speechless.  
Sarcasm may have been a good defence when he didn’t care about anything in particular; however, this was not the case right now. Right now, Jughead cared a lot – possibly more than he had cared about anything ever since his mother and Jellybean had left. After they’d had left town, Jughead had been silent for weeks, rendered incapable of speech by the enormous, tremulous cloud of emotions that charged forth in him. All of Jughead’s will had been so focussed on his inner turmoil that he had all but forgotten how to speak.  
     That storm had never left Jughead; it still raged on within him. But despite its presence, he had learned how to speak again – how to ignore the feelings of betrayal and despondency that his family’s departure had left behind. His better emotions, over time, had become like distant friends: nice to see every once in a while, but not useful for surviving – of which Jughead had had to do a lot.  
     But then came Betty, and Jughead knew something had changed in him, on some deep and fundamental level when he felt himself becoming happier again. It was enough to silence the storm, even if only for a moment; but however minute that silence was, Jughead had still recognized it for what it was: the return of his kinder, gentler feelings.  
     After reconnecting with Betty, it was uncomfortable at first for Jughead to feel anything other than apathy or anger; it was like wearing a sweater that was just small enough to be noticeable.  
     Eventually Jughead felt less and less the apathy to which he had become accustomed. It felt like what had once been an empty shell was now filled with warmth and light. What’s more, it felt good. Everything seemed to become more real, more vibrant, and alive, than maybe even before his mom and Jellybean had left. Jughead knew that he could get used to actually feeling, even if it did still feel a little foreign to him.

  
     Until the night Betty nearly died.

  
     The moment Jughead saw Betty in the hospital, he felt the familiar feeling – or lack of it – blanket itself over him, covering his face with a stony and unreadable gaze. Jughead fell again into apathy; it was what he needed to survive. The worst part about slipping back into it was feeling the lightness he had carried in him wither and die, and replaced by cold, impersonal silence.  
When Hal had hit him, Jughead’s anger had shown its face. It had ignited a cold flame, creating deadly ice shards that cut at Jughead’s insides. He had become overwhelmed to such a degree that he had once again lost the ability to speak.  
     The room was silent, save for the rustle of the breathing pump and the occasional beep of the heart monitor, but Jughead could feel Betty’s presence filling the space like an omnipresent spirit.  
     “Alice, how could you have let that happen?” Fred said in a low, dangerous voice.  
     “He had it coming,” was all she said, in a voice steelier than Fred’s.  
     Fred shook his head in exasperated disbelief, and put his hands in his pockets.  
     “Okay, kids, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”  
     Archie helped Jughead up and put his arm around his shoulder, half-carrying him.  
     “Just remember to do this when I hurt myself playing football.” Archie joked half-heartedly. Jughead looked at the floor, dazed with pain, trying to be as still as possible so as not to make it worse.  
     Jughead shot one more look into the room, looking at the hospital bed that cradled Betty in her coma. Alice had returned her gaze to her dreaming daughter, lightly brushing away imaginary stray hairs from her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch! That must have hurt, I feel terrible for making Jughead go through that!
> 
> kitseybarbours is my beta!
> 
> NOTE: Next chapter will be up on the 23rd of March


	8. Black-Eyed Susans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Was he supposed to say something? In the old movies, whenever someone was in a hospital bed, people spoke to them even though they were in a coma. Could Betty hear him? What if she could?"

     Betty, Alice, Hal, and Smudge were swimming in the warm water, going deeper and deeper into its depths. In the distance, Betty could see a small town, with sparkling yellow lanterns, and cozy little cottages, and concluded that that was what they were swimming towards.

 

     They reached a bubble, close to the town; Betty watched as first Smudge swam through it, then Alice. Betty didn’t think she had a choice but to follow.

     She popped through the bubble, her clothes clean and dry, and was startled to find herself breathing fresh air. Alice and Smudge were already sitting on a grassy knoll, getting their bearings.

     “Have you been here before?” Betty asked Alice, climbing up to meet them.

     “Oh, yes, I come all the time!” Alice exclaimed.

     Smudge was cleaning his fur, pawing at his face intently, purring. Suddenly he bristled, his already poofy coat becoming even more so.

     “What’s up, Smudge?” Betty crossed her arms, growing concerned when Smudge stood stock-still.

     “Betty, he’s here.”

     “Who’s here, Smudge?” Betty leaned forward, tense.

     Smudge yowled, and fell to the ground. Betty moved fast on her feet, scrambling to Smudge and trying to help him stand.

     “Thanks, Betty,” Smudge groaned. He yowled again, and laid down quietly on the green grass, careful not to touch his middle to the ground.

     “Smudge,” Betty asked, eyes open wide with concern, “Are you okay? What’s going on? Who’s here?”

     “Betty,” Smudge said with much pain, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

     Betty began to protest, but:“I’m fine.” Smudge hissed, more at the pain than at her.He started to slink towards the direction of the cottages.

     “This way.” he said gruffly, hiding his pain.

…

     Jughead spent the rest of the day at Archie’s, biding his time until he could sneak back in to see Betty. Before they had left the school, Jughead had snagged his bag from its hiding place behind one of the desks. He hadn’t brought it with him the day before, as he was planning on spending the night at the office on the couch.

     Jughead wrote a chapter on his computer about what had happened, just as he had said it in his statement. It would need work, but his fingers needed to type. From Archie’s window, he had the perfect vantage point onto Betty’s driveway. In theory, he should be able to keep an eye (the one that wasn’t swollen shut) on it, and watch for when Betty’s mom came home. She would  _ eventually  _ need a break, or at least Jughead hoped so, anyway.

     Jughead closed his laptop and replaced the bag of peas over his eye. His stomach still hurt when he breathed, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. Jughead heard a car door open and shut. He peered out the window, and watched as both Hal and Alice walked up the steps to their home, Hal’s arm around Alice’s shoulder. He felt a pang of pity, soon replaced by the pain in his midriff.

     Jughead left a note for Archie and Fred, saying that he’d gone back to the hospital. He might’ve been antisocial at times, but he wasn’t totally heartless.

…

     On the way to the hospital, he decided to swing by Main Street. He had an idea. After strolling a little, receiving plenty of pitying stares (ambulance sirens ring loudly in a small town), Jughead spotted what he was looking for: the flower shop.

     Jughead didn’t know what kinds of flowers Betty liked, so he chose some that reminded him of her. He paid for the bouquet with what little money he had, and started towards the hospital.

     Jughead didn’t understand why he was going back. Seeing Betty so small in that bed had made him feel awful, but he couldn’t stay away. Maybe it was because he thought she’d miraculously wake up when he got there, like some kind of fairy tale. He snorted derisively. He was not anybody’s Prince Charming, let alone Betty’s. He just hoped that she would wake up. He  _ needed _ her to wake up. Hell, he just plain needed  _ her. _

     Jughead walked into the room and placed the bouquet of black-eyed Susans on the desk next to her bed. There was an empty, dusty vase sitting placidly on the desk, and he went to the bathroom to wash it off and fill it with water. He placed the flowers in the vase and settled into the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Betty’s bed. He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat, staring at how her chest rose and fell. She would’ve looked peacefully asleep,  _ except for, you know, the giant-ass tube thing going down her throat. _

     Was he supposed to say something? In the old movies, whenever someone was in a hospital bed, people spoke to them even though they were in a coma. Could Betty hear him? What if she could?

     Jughead had another idea. He flipped open his laptop.

     Jughead remembered how, in middle school, Betty would carry around  _ To Kill a Mockingbird _ like it was an accessory. Even though he and Betty never talked back then, he had still noticed her; it was kind of impossible not to. She was obsessed with the book.

     And it just so happened that Jughead had a copy downloaded on his laptop.

     He began to read aloud.

     “When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken…”

     Jughead slowly crept into the story of the book, losing himself in the actions of the characters. He had forgotten how much he’d liked the book, it must have grown on him in some way.

     Jughead didn’t even notice when Betty’s mom leaned on the frame of the doorway, watching him intently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey I just realized that this fic is pretty darn stupid! that's progress if I do say so myself. Realizing how dumb your ideas are is the first step to becoming good! I promise I'll get better at writing.
> 
> kudos to kitseybarbours for being my beta, she certainly deserves it!
> 
> I'm still going to keep updating it though, since I've already finished writing it.
> 
> Next Chapter will be out on March 25th, 2017


	9. Porch Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Betty kept walking, mulling over the questions that ran through her mind. The wind was fresh here, with the smell of cedar smoke in the air. Then Betty caught a whiff of another smell on the wind: something sweet and floral.
> 
> “Smudge, there’s a…” Betty trailed off, smelling the sweetness in the air again. She found which direction it came from and headed that way: she didn’t know why, but she needed to find where the smell was coming from."

     Alice had disappeared:  _ most likely gone to a friend’s house, _ Betty thought, without knowing how she knew it.

     She looked down at the cobbled road beneath her yellow slippers. Smudge hadn’t spoken for a long time. Why had he been hurt? What had hurt him? Who was the person Smudge said was here? There were too many questions, none of which could be answered without Smudge’s telling her.  _ Which, _ Betty thought,  _ is not happening anytime soon. _

     Betty kept walking, mulling over the questions that ran through her mind. The wind was fresh here, with the smell of cedar smoke in the air. Betty caught a whiff of another smell on the wind: something sweet and floral. 

     “Smudge, there’s a…” Betty trailed off, smelling the sweetness again. She found which direction it came from and headed that way: she didn’t know why, but she needed to find where the smell was coming from.

     “Betty,” Smudge warned, finally breaking his silence. She didn’t listen to him, but pursued of the smell, heading up a side-road.

     “Betty!” Smudge yelled, running after her, “We’ve got to get you home, Betty!”

     Betty’s stomach growled at the mention of food, but she ignored it, running past cottage after cottage, her shoes tapping lightly against the stones.

     The cottages gave way to a field of wild grass, whispering in the wind. Sitting in the middle of the field was a house, old-fashioned; she ran towards it, Smudge following after her.

     “This isn’t a good idea, Betty!” Smudge yelled after her, as he leapt through the wild grass to keep up. _Just a little further, and she’d be there_.

     Betty ran and ran, mud sticking to her shoes. She kicked them off and kept running. A strong wind almost blew her over, but she persisted.

     Betty got to the porch, breathing hard. The porch was surrounded by bushels upon bushels of wild black-eyed Susans. The fragrance was so powerful there, Betty could taste it.

     It was _wonderful_.

     “Could we go back?” asked Smudge. “I have allergies.”

     Betty was tired, and noticed a porch swing waiting for her to sit down.

     “Just a moment, Smudge, I’m so tired…” Betty climbed the steps up to the porch and fell onto the swing in exhaustion. Smudge leapt up beside her, nervously cleaning his paw.

     “Can I tell you a story?” Smudge blurted out.

     Betty was nonplussed. “Sure,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning back into the comfort of the porch swing.

     “When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken…” Smudge began.

     Betty smiled, feeling comfort wash over her at the sound of the words. They sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place them. She stroked Smudge’s silky black fur. He had a nice speaking voice, and he told the story well; at first he’d sounded shy, his voice a little rough, but it soon became as smooth as honey. Betty fell asleep, surrounded by the words and the enveloping fragrance of the black-eyed Susans.

…

     A while later, when Betty had woken from her brief doze and was listening contentedly again, Smudge paused, and bristled beside her. She could feel his shoulders tense, his ears pricking forward.

     “What’s wrong, Smudge?” Betty asked, not opening her eyes.

     There was no response from Smudge. Betty shrugged inwardly, and started petting him again, trying to relax his muscles. It didn’t work. He stood at attention for a time, looking into the middle of the field, his sharp green eyes far away.

     “I’m so sorry, Betty.” Smudge murmured, just loud enough for Betty to hear him.

     “For what, Smudge?” Betty said sleepily.

     “For this.”

     Smudge bit her in the arm, hard. 

     Betty sat upright at once. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears, and she watched as blood fell out of the puncture marks on her forearm.

     “What’d you do that for?” Betty protested, placing her hand over the bitemark.

     “I told you I was sorry! I really am, but you needed to wake up, Betty. We gotta get a move on if we’re going to find home,” Smudge replied, licking his paw satisfactorily. Betty humphed. The initial sharp pain of the bite had faded, but it was disconcerting to look at.

     “Come on, Betts. Let’s go.” Smudge jumped down from the porch swing. Betty sighed, gripping the edges of the seat, and stood up.

     As they were walking down the steps of the porch, Betty snagged one of the black-eyed Susans and tucked it into her hair, so she could smell it wherever she went.

…

     Jughead jumped, startled, when Alice Cooper entered Betty’s hospital room. She’d looked like she’d expected it, like she was pleased. 

     “Hello, Jug Head,” Alice greeted him, arms crossed.

     “Mrs. Cooper,” Jughead replied tightly. He felt her gaze, like lasers, and he could tell she was scanning his face, approving of the bruised and swollen eye her husband had given him. 

     Alice dropped her bag and her coat on Betty’s bed. and then prowled like a panther towards the vase of Black Eyed Susans. Jughead followed her with his eyes, bristling, and getting ready to go on the defensive.

     Alice took one in her hand. “Did you get her these, Jug Head?” She separated the syllables of his name again, and Jughead grimaced inwardly.

     “They reminded me of her,” Jughead said.

     “Betty’s more of a tulip person.” She let the statement hang in the air, but dropped the flower; it landed haphazardly back in the vase. Alice stood across the bed from Jughead and stared at him through the mess of small tubes.

     Jughead leaned back in his chair, watching her closely, trying to feign confidence (although when it came to Betty’s mom, he had none). There was a tense moment of silence, and then:

     “Honestly, Jughead, I never knew you cared so much,” Alice drawled. “What with your mother and sister leaving you, and your father the head of a _ gang... _ I didn’t think you had it in you.”

     “Betty wouldn’t want us to argue, Mrs. Cooper. I’m sure you would agree.”

     “Don’t tell me what Betty wants. You’re nothing to her,” Alice snapped, her temper flaring. “Besides, who’s arguing? I’m just making conversation.”

     “Have you heard back from the doctor yet?” Jughead struggled to keep his voice cool.  “How is she doing?”

     “I’m sure it’s none of your business.” Alice replied coldly. “Now get out. I don’t want to see you in here again.”

     Alice didn’t have to ask twice. Jughead packed up his things, but paused at the foot of Betty’s bed. Jughead had an idea. If he was going to do this, he had to think of something to say.

     “You know, Mrs. Cooper - ”

     Jughead was interrupted by the heart monitor beeping fast and loud. Alice turned, which gave Jughead the perfect opportunity to search frantically in the pockets of her discarded coat. He felt a smooth thin rectangle in her jacket pocket, and shoved it into his own pocket, heart pounding in his ears. A nurse came rushing in to checked the heart monitor, and set about resetting it.

     Jughead tried to look nonchalant as the nurse left, assuring them that all was well. Alice Cooper turned back to him.

     “Sorry, Jug Head, what were you saying?”

     “Nothing, forget about it. It’s nothing important.” Jughead shook his head and left.

     He dipped his hand into his pocket and felt the edges of Alice Cooper’s phone.

     “Thanks, Betty,” he whispered. Unheard by Jughead as he hurried down the hall, the heart monitor beeped in response. The breath pump wheezed happily, and it seemed like maybe Betty had sighed minutely, proud with the job she had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of them apples? I think them apples are pretty interesting, if I do say so myself. 
> 
> kitseybarbours is my amazing beta!
> 
> Sorry for the late post, life kinda got in the way yesterday, but it's here now!!
> 
> Next chapter will probably be up sometime march 28th 2017


	10. Just Thought I'd Drop By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pressed the home button. There was an email notification on the screen, from The Sisters of Quiet Mercy.
> 
> Sisters of Quiet Mercy? What was that?
> 
> Jughead took out his laptop and searched the name.
> 
> The Sisters of Quiet Mercy:
> 
> Sisters of Quiet Mercy offers a peaceful home for troubled youth; a place for quiet contemplation and healing.

Jughead didn’t go back to the Andrews’ house. Instead, he went to the office of the Blue and Gold, and sat down at the desk, taking Alice's phone out of his pocket.  


He knew it was going to be difficult to crack the passcode, but he had to try. Jughead had gone this far, he couldn't turn back now. He pressed the home button. There was an email notification on the screen, from _The Sisters of Quiet Mercy_.  


_ Sisters of Quiet Mercy? What was that? _

Jughead took out his laptop and searched the name.  


> _ The Sisters of Quiet Mercy:  
>  _
> 
> _ Sisters of Quiet Mercy offers a peaceful home for troubled youth; a place for quiet contemplation and healing.  _

An address accompanied the description, and a map. Jughead searched for a bus to take him there, and found a bus traveling there that evening,and bought tickets.

It was decided. _He was going to see Polly._

Jughead left the phone at the school, and headed for the bus station.

...

It took all night to get to the home. The early morning air was filled with fog as Jughead stepped off the bus. He looked up at the imposing building. Jughead couldn't imagine _The_ _Sisters of Quiet Mercy_ without the fog; the atmosphere lent itself to the dramatic bravado of the whole environment. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and walked up the home.

 

He entered, and went to the front desk. Jughead knew the best way to play this situation was to be as charming as possible. He smiled large and wide at the receptionist: “Hi!”

“May I help you?” the old lady at the desk said, with no hint of a smile.

“I’m here to see Polly Cooper,” he replied politely.

“May I see some identification?”

Jughead proffered his driver’s licence.  


“Sign in here, please.” He signed his name in his elegantly jagged hand on the sheet she laid down for him.

“Twenty-sixth door on your left.” She was already back to looking at the computer through her half-moon spectacles.

_ Well, that was easy. _

Jughead wondered what he would say to Polly; he didn’t really  have a plan, but he  _ did  _ have an inkling that neither Alice nor Hal had told their elder daughter that her baby sister had been shot.

He strolled down the hallway, counting the doors, and finally stopped at the twenty-sixth one on the left. What was he supposed to do? Knock? It seemed like the right thing to do.  


He knocked, and  Polly Cooper opened the door.

He could see the resemblance between Betty and her sister immediately: Polly had bright green eyes with the same energy and sparkle as Betty’s. Her blonde hair was longer than her sister’s, but they had the same chin.

“Hello, who are you?” Polly asked, hiding herself and holding onto the doorframe. Jughead supposed he must look a little intimidating. He had on his own clothes, snatched from his bag, which he supposed looked a little _different_ in a place like this...not to mention his black eye.

“I’m Jughead Jones. I’m one of Betty’s friends.” Jughead held out his hand to shake.

“Oh, I remember you! I’m sorry I couldn’t remember your name, but I knew I knew you from somewhere!” Polly ignored his hand, and hugged him instead.

Jughead was surprised, to say the least. He hadn’t been hugged in a long time.

Polly let go, and smiled. 

_ They have the same smile, too _ .

“Please, come in!” Polly walked into her room, and Jughead followed.

It was a small room, but it looked like Polly had managed to make it feel like home, which was a difficult feat in itself. She tidied a few things, but seemed more intent on busying herself. _Had it been that long since she’d had a visitor?_

“Please, sit.” Apparently satisfied with the state of her room, Polly offered Jughead the chair by her desk and pulled another one over from beneath the window for herself, so they could sit and talk.

“Thanks,” Jughead said. Polly was as much a hostess as her mother, though Polly was definitely nicer.

Polly laughed breathlessly. “I wish I had something to offer you,” she apologized.

“No, don’t worry about, I’m fine.” Jughead smiled, ignoring his empty stomach: he realized he hadn’t eaten since the day before.

“So, why are you here, Jughead?” Polly pushed her hair behind her ear and looked at him earnestly.

“What makes you think I have a reason?” Jughead asked.

“Nobody comes to visit me unless they need something from me,” she said, frank and unapologetic.

Jughead sighed, slumping down in his chair. It was probably true, what Polly said. He understood what she meant; he had had that experience as well, with his own father.

He folded his hands in his lap. Jughead didn’t want to disturb the calmness of the room, to ruin Polly’s apparent pleasure at having a visitor; but he could already tell that she didn’t know what had happened to Betty – and she deserved to know, even if it would break her heart.

“Well come on, Jughead. Spit it out!” Polly teased. He could tell she was getting worried; her smile no longer quite reached her eyes.

“I have some news, Polly. It’s not good news, but I think you deserve to know.”

Polly sat forward in her seat, gazing intently at Jughead. She had the same scrutinizing eyes as Betty, that gaze that always that made Jughead feel transparent.

Jughead had to count the days that had passed since that terrible night at Pop's.  


“Three days ago, Betty was shot in the parking lot of Pop’s,” Jughead expelled grimly.

Polly sat upright in her chair, her eyes widening, but said nothing.

“She was shot in the stomach. It pierced one of her arteries, and she is currently in a medically-induced coma.”

Polly stared at him, her face an unreadable mask.

“It was horrible.” Jughead whispered, mostly to himself, as he remembered Betty, on the ground, bleeding out.

Polly didn’t say anything, didn’t move. She sighed, and rubbed her face with her hands. A long, suspended moment passed.

“Thanks for telling me,” Polly said, finally. “Is she getting lots of visitors?”

“Betty is very” – Jughead swallowed – “very well-loved. Veronica, Archie, Kevin and I visited her. That's when I got this.” Jughead gestured to his black eye.  


Polly grimaced, understanding his sentiment. "I'm sorry about my dad. He can get so... overprotective." She stood up and looked out the window, her eyes far away.  


“Does she have lots of flowers?” 

“Yes.” Jughead paused, slightly embarrassed, even though, he thought, he had no reason to be. “I got her Black-Eyed Susans. They reminded me of her,” Jughead mumbled, staring at his shoes.

Polly turned to look at him, hugging herself. “Nice choice. I always used to catch her admiring the Black-Eyed Susans that one of our neighbours grows – or used to grow, I guess.” Polly moved to sit down again.“You said she’s in a coma. I wonder if she can hear anything…”

“I tried,” Jughead said. “I remembered seeing her in middle school with  _ To Kill a Mockingbird. _ I tried reading it to her, but I got interrupted.” He omitted the part where he had stolen her mother’s phone in an attempt to find her.

Polly smiled incandescently, and laughed. Jughead gave her a questioning look.

“What?”

“Betty’s so lucky to have someone so in love with her,” Polly said. “I was hoping someone like you would come along for her, but I didn’t think it would happen, in a town this small.”

A blush tinged Jughead’s cheeks. He couldn’t even look Polly in the face, and mumbled something half-heartedly that might’ve been a denial.  _ She's right, though. _

“No, no!” Polly laughed, reaching to him to bring him back out of his shell. “I’m so happy for you! I know how you feel! I feel the same way about Jason. Oh my goodness, this must have been really difficult for you, Jughead. I’m so sorry! I wish there was some way, any way I could help.”

Jughead picked at his nails in an effort to not look at Polly.“There’s nothing you can do, Polly. But thanks.” He peered up at her from under his hair.“The only thing that needs to happen is that Betty needs to wake up.”

Polly nodded. “I-“

Suddenly there came a cough from the doorway. Jughead’s head whipped in that direction.

They’d been interrupted by the old lady from the front desk – and Alice Cooper, holding her phone.

Jughead felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“Mom–" Polly began.

“I’m not here for you, Polly. I’m here for him.” The edge to Alice's voice cut Jughead's courage in half.  


He jumped out of his chair, not wanting to cause more trouble for Polly; she’d already seen enough trouble for a lifetime.

“See ya, Polly,” he whispered to her. She looked after them as they walked out of the doorway. The old lady spared her a glance, and slammed her door shut. Polly was left sitting alone in her room, in the deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polly!!! Polly is so nice, she's such a good sister. 
> 
> Thanks to kitseybarbours for being my beta!
> 
> Next chapter will be up in two days: March 31st (does March have 31 days? if not, april 1st). Two days is the most important part.


	11. Yikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "By the time Jughead got back to Riverdale, he was starving beyond belief – even worse than usual. He headed straight for Pop’s. It was nearly dark by the time he got to the Chock’lit Shoppe, hands in pockets. Jughead walked inside, spotted Hal sitting at the counter, turned on his heel and walked back out the door."

The field gave way to a tall cliff, drenched in moonlight. Betty stood at the edge, drawing her cape around her, and sat on the soft grass. Smudge came to sit down beside her, purring gently, leaning into her.

“Smudge, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Betty whispered, in awe of the scene before her.The moon hung low and yellow, radiating with goodness. A plethora of stars speckled the dark, inky sky, creating constellations: there was a whale, its tail sending up a spray of stars, a floppy-eared bunny, racing in between the scattered clouds; and a beaver, patting down stars with its tail. All of these were reflected in the water below the cliff.  Betty smiled, and watched the stars move and swirl.

“Isn’t it lovely?” a new voice said behind Betty.

She turned around, and saw a lady bathed in moonlight, basket in hand. She had a cleft chin, blonde hair like Betty’s, and a smile as sweet as honey.

“Yes,” Betty smiled. “Would you like to come sit with me?”

Smudge had sauntered over to the newcomer, rubbing at her legs. She bent over to pet him, but carefully - her round stomach made it difficult.

“Yes, I’d love to,” replied the lady. “I’m Polly, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Betty, and that there is Smudge.” Betty gestured towards Smudge, who was a glutton for attention when meeting new people.

“Oh!” exclaimed Polly. “How cute! What a lovely name!”

“Thanks, that’s why I chose it.” Smudge grinned, and trotted back to Betty, sitting and curling his tail neatly around his paws. “Come and sit, Polly!” Smudge said, welcoming her to their small gathering.

She came over to Betty’s other side, laid her basket down, and ponderously took a seat on the grass.

“Oof,” Polly exclaimed, “I’ll be glad when this is over. Thank you,” she said, accepting the helping hand Betty had offered. “You know, it feels like I’ve swallowed a planet! I never knew babies could get so big! And I’m glad I brought food; I’m always so _hungry.”_

Smudge’s ears pricked up at the sound of ‘food’.

“Well,” Smudge said, side-eying Betty, “we’ve traveled a long way, and we’ve still got a long way to go. Would it be possible –

“Oh yes, of course! I wouldn’t be able to eat all of this myself!” Polly laughed. The moon chuckled silently along with her. Smudge jumped over to the basket, sniffing delicately along the edges of the blanket that covered it. Betty could now smell the aroma of the food, but couldn’t tell what it was.

Polly lifted the blanket, revealing apples, strawberries, peppers, fries, and freshly grilled meat.

“Wow!” exclaimed Smudge, eyes widening at the sight of the feast. Betty saw, and giggled. “What,” Smudge said, “can’t a cat be happy about food?”

“Of course you can,” Polly teased, winking at Betty. “Betty, if you wouldn’t mind?” Polly handed her a folded-up cloth. “Can you spread this out? I would, but in my state…” she trailed off, patting her giant belly with fondness.

“Yes, of course!” Betty took the blanket and spread it out on the grass. Once everything had been laid out, they started to feast on the meal Polly had brought.

“See, Betty?” Smudge said, his mouth full of meat. “I told you we’d get food!”

“That’s what’s so nice about cats – they always keep their word,” Polly said, smiling warmly at Smudge.

After they had exhausted their supply of food, Polly, Betty, and Smudge sat near the edge of the grassy cliff, watching the bunny tease the beaver in the night sky. The moon was reflected on the body of water below, which shimmered softly and gently in the light.

“Well, that was amazing,” said Polly “but I’ve got to go; I have to get up early tomorrow.”

Smudge helped Betty fold the blanket, and Polly replaced the plates and utensils back into the basket.

“Well, Smudge,” prompted Betty, “where are we off to next?”

“Home, like always.” Smudge replied, licking his paw.

 _Home…_ Betty thought the word sounded familiar, but couldn’t quite remember what it meant to her.

…

Alice took Jughead’s arm roughly. Jughead tried to shake loose, but her hand-like talons were no match for him. They walked quickly down the hall and out the front door.

Alice gripped Jughead’s other arm, pulling him to look straight at her. He was convinced he might turn to stone should he look her in the eye, but he dared himself to try.

“You stay away from my girls, or I will deal with you _myself_.”  Her voice was almost a whisper. It was a good thing Jughead couldn’t budge because of her claw-like appendages on his arms, because from afar it probably looked like he was standing his ground. He didn’t nod. He didn't say anything. She shoved him away, and stormed to her car.

Jughead shook himself out and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well that wasn’t pleasant,” he whispered to no one in particular. He walked to the bus stop, and waited.

…

By the time Jughead got back to Riverdale, he was starving beyond belief – even worse than usual. He headed straight for Pop’s. It was nearly dark by the time he got to the Chock’lit Shoppe, hands in pockets. Jughead walked inside, spotted Hal sitting at the counter, turned on his heel and walked back out the door.

Jughead tried as best he could to walk quickly, but casually. But all too soon, he heard the bell on the door jingle.

“Jughead!” Hal yelled.   
Jughead didn’t respond. He knew better than to talk to Mr. Cooper. Jughead could hear feet splashing in the puddles behind him. He didn’t know what to do.   
“I’m not here to hurt you again,” Hal said.

Jughead stopped. Hal walked around Jughead to face him, his eyes earnest. Jughead watched him with the scowl he usually reserved for Reggie.

“I just wanted to say...” Hal hesitated, reaching for Jughead’s arm, but thought better of it due to the look on Jughead’s face.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. I overreacted, and I’m sorry you bore the brunt of my anger. I have no excuses for what I did, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But,” Hal paused, “I just needed to say it.”

Jughead stared at him in stony silence.

“At least let me buy you a burger,” Hal offered. In spite of Jughead’s pride, Jughead needed food – and quickly – or he was going to pass out.

Jughead nodded his head ever so slightly, and turned to walk back in the direction of the Chock’lit Shoppe. Hal followed.

 

Betty’s father seemed unsure of himself, for once. Jughead strolled to the counter and took a seat, and Hal sat down beside him, sighing.

“Shouldn’t you be visiting your daughter?” Jughead asked, intonating not one syllable.

“Alice is taking a turn tonight,” Hal said.

Pop interrupted: “What can I get you?”

“A burger for Jughead, and just more coffee for me,” Hal said. “Do you want anything else?”

“Chocolate milkshake,” Jughead responded. “Thanks.”

“Coming right up,” Pop said, heading back to the kitchen.

The silence stretched on. Hal looked like he had something to say, but wasn’t exactly sure how to say it. Jughead anticipated the worst – he hated these moments, the moments just before an explosion of words. It started out with a searching look in the eyes, trying to figure out what to say, next came the panic at trying to find the right words, in time to end the silence before making it awkward. Then came the hesitation, hastily reviewing what needed to be said, and throwing caution to the wind.

“So,” started Hal, “you’re the one who brought Betty those flowers, right?”

“Yes.” Jughead affirmed. _Just get to the point._

“That was real nice of you, you know? Something to brighten up the room, even if Betty is more of a tulip person…” He trailed off.

Pop came back and vanquished what was quickly shaping up to be the world’s most unpleasant conversation with his charming smile. “Here’s your coffee, Hal.” Pop set down a steaming cup on the counter. “Your burger will be out soon, son.”

Hal grabbed the mug of coffee and took a sip, clearly avoiding speaking for as long as he could. But:

“Okay, I’ve had enough of the chit-chat, Mr. Cooper. Say whatever it is you have to say,” Jughead requested.

Hal nodded, replacing his mug of coffee on the countertop. “Jughead..” He paused. “Pop told me he saw everything: how you had helped Betty, and all that.” Hal’s voice broke. “And since then, I’ve had to reevaluate some of my opinions about you.”  Jughead bristled at the slight, face locked in a scowl.“Yeah, um,” Hal waffled, “before, I thought you _might_ not be the _greatest_ of friends for my Betty. I mean, you have to admit,” Hal chuckled nervously, “you do kind of look like you run on the wrong side of the tracks.”

Jughead remained cold and distant, saying nothing.

“But, uh, I’ve seen the way you’ve taken care of Betty. Alice - Mrs. Cooper, that is - told me she heard you read a book, and she saw the flowers...” Hal smiled slightly. “I still may not approve of your friendship with Betty, but I don’t disapprove of it, either.”

Jughead had had enough. He stood up, making a beeline for the kitchen. Hal was quick to follow.

“Pop, can I get my burger to go?” Jughead popped his head through the door. Pop nodded.

“Jughead –” Hal started, putting his hand on Jughead’s shoulder. Jughead pushed it off.

“No, _Hal_ ,” Jughead said. “I’m done being insulted by you. Betty’s her own person, which means she can choose her own friends, regardless of whether or not _you_ actually like them.” He hoped that these words, coupled with the black look on his face, would finally get his point across. But for some reason, Hal grinned, instead of backing off like Jughead had hoped. Hal actually _laughed_.

“You must really like Betty,” Hal said. “I was the same as you, back when I was first dating Alice. Couldn’t help defending her whenever I heard anything bad about her - not that I did often,” Hal added. “It’s just –” Hal hesitated, “If you and Betty...try anything, and you hurt her, Jughead, you will have me to answer to. Don’t you dare hurt my girl. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You can never be too careful, Mr. Cooper. I am from the wrong side of the tracks, after all,” Jughead said coldly.

The burger was ready. Pop proffered a takeout bag and a cup to Jughead, who took them and stalked out the door of the Chock’lit Shoppe. “Jughead!” Hal called after him, but Jughead ignored him.

Underneath the street lamps, Jughead sighed. Even though Hal Cooper was one of the most stuck-up, half-witted people he’d ever met, Jughead had felt something akin to relief when Hal had given him his...opinion about him and Betty.. It might not’ve been glowing approval, but at least it had been acknowledged. If anything, it was a weight off of Jughead’s shoulders.

He headed back to the hospital to tell Betty about his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jughead got a boiger.  
> Pleasant for Betty, but not so pleasant for Jughead.  
> kitseybarbours beta'd this story for me
> 
> The next chapter will be put up on Sunday, April 2nd. 
> 
> As for A Traveler's Guide to Ireland, I don't know when that'll be up! I'm starting a club, which is kind of difficult, and it's taking up most of my time. Hopefully I'll have some time this weekend to write. Don't worry, I always finish what I start, just like g'ma always said.
> 
> Have a good weekend!


	12. Home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, Betty! We’ve got to find your home!”
> 
> Betty opened her eyes. Smudge had moved close; all that Betty could see were sharp green eyes and long dark fur.
> 
> “Home,” Betty said miserably, remembering her thought from earlier. “What’s home?”

     Betty and Smudge were walking through the field of green grass again – or _Betty_ was walking, holding Smudge under her arm. She sighed, missing the lovely porch swing and the flowers which surrounded it. Her eyes wandered far and wide, searching for something; she didn’t know what she was looking for, but she looked all the same.

     The terrain under her feet grew sandier and sandier, until eventually there was only slivers of grass poking through the sand.

     Betty put Smudge down, intending to stop here, but the cat continued walking, oblivious.

     “Smudge,” Betty called to him, crossing her arms.  “Where are we going? We’ve been walking for ages!”

     “Almost there, I promise. Just a few more steps, and you’ll be closer than you’ve ever been before.”

     “To what!?” Betty cried, exasperated. “It feels like we’re going nowhere!”

     “Just trust me, Betty. You need to stay with me. I’ll tell you all about it over a chocolate malt and a burger, okay? All you need to do is trust me.”

     Betty started crying. She was so tired. Her body felt like a machine, able to walk forever, but her mind had slowed to a crawl. Betty wasn’t sure for how much longer she could keep this up. She sat on the ground and put her head in her hands.

     Smudge came up to her, and nudged her hands away from her face, his long whiskers tickling her wrists. She looked at him with watery eyes.

     “I’m just so tired, Smudge. I don’t know if I can keep going.”

     Smudge sat in front of her, a worried expression on his feline features.

     “I need you to keep going, Betts. Please? For me?” He put his paw on her knee.

     Betty buried her head in her hands again. She felt dizzy and weak.

     “Betty?” Smudge prompted.

     “Give me a second, Smudge. I feel so dizzy. I just need to lie down for a while.” Betty lay on her side, looking at Smudge through squinting eyes. He was just a black blob against a yellow landscape.

     “No, Betty! We’ve got to find your home!”

     Betty opened her eyes. Smudge had moved close; all that Betty could see were sharp green eyes and long dark fur.

     “Home,” Betty said miserably, remembering her thought from earlier. “What’s home?”

     Smudge thought for a second before answering. “Well...me, I’m just a cat. So home is wherever I feel safe, like hollow logs, long grass, in nests, in between the boulders next to a river –”

     “Or in somebody’s arms,” Betty added. She didn’t fully understand the logic, but it made sense to her.

     “What makes you think that?” asked Smudge.

     “Well...” Betty turned to lie on her back, shielding her eyes with her hand from the sun, “We’ve looked everywhere for my home, and we haven’t found it.”

     “Yet,” interjected Smudge.

     “Yet,” Betty agreed. “But you said home can be anywhere.”

     “Yes.”

     “You also said that home is where you feel safe. Home is a feeling.” She turned to look Smudge in the eyes.“Home is a feeling!” Betty exclaimed. “I’ve never thought about it that way before!” She got up, and picked up Smudge, looking into his grass-green eyes.

     “Smudge, I think I know where home is!” Betty laughed, exhilarated. “Come with me! I think I know where to go!” Betty put him down again, and started running across the sandy plain.

     “Wait!” Smudge yelled after her, to no avail. He grumbled under his breath, and started running after Betty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why didn't y'all send me a message?!   
> I'm so sorry this is late, and is SO SHORT omg  
> I'm having trouble formatting the chapters, so actually in my drafts I'm already on the last chapter. I'm going to break it up to mmmmmmaaaayyyyybbbbeee get to seventeen chapters, we'll see. I have to take a look at it, but I have a prior engagement today, so tomorrow.
> 
> Next chapter will be up on wednesday
> 
> I have a french oral exam tomorrow, wish me luck!!
> 
> again so sorry it's so small, but we're finally getting near the end!!!


	13. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re ready,” the doctor said. He put injected into one of the tubes, and everyone in the room watched as the liquid made its way down the tube, into Betty’s arm.  
> The whole room was holding its breath, waiting for a reaction.  
> Betty opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all readers!  
> do you want four mini-chapters, or 1 normal sized chapter?  
> I'm not going to be able to hit the 17 chapters mark.  
> So choose!

     Archie had found an air mattress for Jughead and set it out on the floor. Archie’s room was already small, and Jughead felt guilty about taking up so much space. In the early morning light, Jughead lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his charcoal hair mussed from tossing and turning all night. In his own bed, Archie slept on.   Jughead was wondering about Betty, how long she’d be unconscious. He hoped she would wake up soon; he missed Betty. He missed her fluffy ponytail, her ambition, seeing her incandescent smile. Most of all, however, Jughead missed how she made him feel: like he was safe, like he belonged somewhere.  
     He sighed, closing his eyes. Jughead couldn’t see Betty without that breathing apparatus coming out of her mouth. It was unnatural, and he never wanted to see it again; but every memory was tainted, as if with the blood that had soaked his knees the night that Betty had nearly died.  
     A soft knocking on the door snapped Jughead out of his melancholic reverie. The door squeaked open a touch, and Jughead saw Mr. Andrews staring at him, beckoning with his hand. Jughead got up, and closed the door behind him quietly, trying not to disturb Archie.  
     “Sorry, wasn’t sure you were awake,” Fred said, handing Jughead a warm cup of coffee. Jughead raised his eyebrows in question.  
     “Drink up, I’m taking you to the hospital.”  
     Jughead’s stomach plummeted to his feet. The concern must have shown on his face.  
     “Sorry, didn’t mean to phrase it like that. Betty’s going to be woken up, and the Coopers just called to request your presence.” Fred gestured with air quotes. Jughead was shocked, and it must’ve shown on his face, because Fred reached out to pat him on the shoulder.  
     “Go get some clothes on, and then we’ll go.” Fred smiled, taking back the untouched mug of coffee.

  
      When one witnesses – or, indeed, is a part of – a miraculous event, the passage of time becomes arbitrary. One moment may drag on forever, and another may accelerate instantaneously. Every breath, heartbeat, or blink can take either an eternity or a second to complete. Jughead couldn’t remember grabbing his clothes and his beanie, or jumping into the Andrews’ truck, but he was sure that it happened.

     The drive to the hospital seemed to take a lifetime; the sun peered slowly over the horizon, the birds sang contentedly.  Somehow, the world seemed more alive than it had the day before: Jughead could smell fresh bread as they passed the bakery, and the earthy smell as they drove through Eversgreen Forest.  
     Inside the truck, all was silent. Fred could see from the corner of his eye that Jughead fidgeting: his hands were clenched in fists at his side, his mouth a thin determined line, and he couldn’t sit still. _He must really care for Betty_ , Fred thought, and let Jughead sit in silence.  
     They arrived at the hospital, and Fred parked the car. Jughead practically leapt out of his seat, walking swiftly to the hospital.  
     “Give me a call if you need a ride!” Fred yelled. Jughead waved at him in acknowledgement.  
     Jughead ran through the hospital, room after room flickering past. He tread the path he had walked so many times before, and almost instantaneously, Jughead was at the threshold of Betty’s room. He could hear the familiar beep of the heart monitor. Jughead walked in tentatively, his hands cold and clammy. The lights were dimmed.  
     Beside the bed, Alice was sitting in the chair, with Hal standing and rubbing her shoulder. Jughead noticed with a pang of regret that Polly was missing. _She should’ve been able to come_ , thought Jughead. _It’s her own sister, for Christ’s sake_.  
     The doctor, whom Jughead recognised from before, and a nurse, stood on the other side of the bed, prepping for the wake-up.  
     And in the bed, there was Betty. She no longer had the tube sticking out of her mouth, and it looked like she was sleeping peacefully, her golden hair creating a halo that circled her head. Jughead felt a surge of warmth, which calmed his nerves.  
     “Hello, Jug Head,” Alice said wearily. “I can tell you it was not my idea to let you in here.”  
     “It was mine,” Hal interjected “The doctors told us she might be a little out-of-sorts when she comes to, and I thought someone familiar would, you know, be nice for her.” Hal smiled warily, reasserting Jughead’s confidence that Betty Cooper’s parents didn’t like him.  
     “We’re ready,” the doctor said. He put injected into one of the tubes, and everyone in the room watched as the liquid made its way down the tube, into Betty’s arm.  
     The whole room was holding its breath, waiting for a reaction.  
     Betty opened her eyes.

  
...

  
     “I know where it is, Smudge!” said Betty excitedly.  
     “Where, Betty?” Smudge asked, panting, his silky charcoal coat filled with the yellow sand.  
     “It’s…” Betty fumbled. She had it in her brain, she knew she did. It was on the tip of her tongue.  
     “Alright,” Smudge said, seeing Betty was confused. “Let’s stop and work this out. Where did you last see home?”  
     Betty stopped and considered for a moment. “It was in the Ever-Green Forest,” she said decidedly, and changed her mind. “Wait, no! It was the place we went to before the forest.”  
     “But we met in the forest!” Smudge said. Betty looked confused again. “You know, the forest with the falling leaves and all the fog?”  
     “No, it’s not that; I remember. It’s something else…” Betty could remember a flash of darkness, with red and blue lights. She could remember hearing a voice, but couldn’t remember what it had said.  
     “Betty,” Smudge began, and bristled. “What do you remember?” he asked cautiously.  
     “The voice I heard...I think – I think that was home, Smudge.” As soon as Betty had said it, she realized it was true. _That was home!_  
     “What’s home, Betty?”  
     “I – Betty began.  
     The wind started to blow heavily, picking up dust and sand. A sudden dust storm thundered over them. Betty couldn’t do anything but crouch, hoping it would pass as quickly as it had appeared.  
     “Betty!” yelled Smudge through the high wind. “Remember who your home is!”  
     “Smudge!” Betty yelled back, her mouth filling with sand.  
     The storm grew stronger and stronger, covering Betty in sand, her limbs heavy and weak against the onslaught. Betty had her eyes closed, but in the pile of sand she could still breathe. The sand gave way underneath her, and fell down a large mesa. She fell to the ground and opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo-wee! what a nailbiter!
> 
> so it looks like i don't have enough material for 17 chapters :(  
> at most i have one more good-sized chapter.
> 
> I'm leaving it up to you, readers. Do you want four more little chapters, or one more reasonably-sized chunk of writing?  
> leave me a comment.
> 
> it depends on what you say that will determine the date of the next release.


	14. Chocolate Malt and Hamburgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I missed you,” he blurted, catching Betty mid-bite.
> 
> “I didn’t miss you,” Betty answered abruptly.

     Though the lights were dimmed, they hurt Betty’s eyes. The only thing she could focus on was breathing, so that’s what she did. Slowly, Betty woke up, and became conscious of what was around her. She saw the ceiling, the lights, the heart monitor, and the tubes. _So many tubes;_ _ too _ _many tubes_. She started to grab them, and tried to pull them out of her wherever she could reach. Arms held her back. Betty was so angry: there shouldn’t have been  _ things _ sticking into her! She fought off the hands, but they were too strong, too solid. A voice saying words, but she couldn’t understand them.

     Suddenly, a pair of grass-green eyes met hers, up close.  _ Smudge’s eyes. _ She calmed at the sight of something familiar. Whatever connected her ears to her brain kickstarted, and the wall that had separated her and the outside world melted.

     “Betty, it’s okay. We’ve got you,” the green eyes said, searching hers.

     Jughead watched as Betty’s blue eyes cleared of sleep, and became as sharp as ever, looking at Jughead’s face.

     “Juggie?” Betty said, in a raspy whisper. She thought the name sounded familiar, but she wasn’t quite sure it belonged to the face.

     Jughead smiled at her. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”

     Betty smiled, really smiled, at Jughead. She laughed, and Jughead knew he had never heard a sweeter sound.

     “Hi,” Betty said shyly, still not used to her own voice.

     “Hi back,” Jughead responded.

     They smiled and stared at each other, lost in their own little world.

     Hal coughed. Betty looked away, and the moment was over.

     “Dad? Mom?” Betty said, and both Hal and Alice came to the bed to embrace their daughter.

     “Oh my goodness! I’m so hungry!” Betty laughed.

     Jughead stepped out the door, feeling unwelcome in the situation. He caught Mrs. Cooper’s eye as he walked out the door. She shot him a mean look over her daughter’s back as she hugged her.

     Jughead walked out of the hospital, hands in his pockets, and walked to Pop’s in the early morning sun. He smiled the whole way there.

     Once Pop heard that the burgers and the chocolate malts were for him and Betty, he refused to take payment for it.

     Jughead stopped by the flower shop to pick up more Black-Eyed Susans, and entered Betty’s room again, food and flowers in hand. Alice and Hal were missing.

     “Where did your parents go?” questioned Jughead.

     “Oh, they had to go to work.” Betty smiled at Jughead, but he could tell that she was disappointed. He hoped the flowers and the food would amend that. “What have you got?”

     Jughead opened the package that contained the flowers, and showed them to Betty, smiling as she gasped.

     “Black-eyed Susans?!” Betty cried. “They’re my favourite!”

     Jughead replaced the old flowers in the vase with the new, placing the bag of burgers on the bed.

     “Your parents said that you were more of a tulip kind of girl, but I didn’t believe them.” Jughead smiled. He felt lighter than he ever had before.

     Betty chuckled, opening the bag. “They always thought tulips suited me better, for some reason.”

     “Oh yeah,” Jughead said, sitting down on the bed. “I didn’t know what to get you at Pop’s, so I just got a burger and a chocolate malt – my usual. I hope it’s okay.” He rubbed his hands self-consciously. Betty looked up and smiled at him, eyes watery.

     “Jughead, you’re so amazing. Thank you so much!” Betty said, and bit into one of the burgers. She rolled her eyes in pleasure, savouring the bite. Jughead couldn’t help but laugh. “Dream-food doesn’t compare, does it?” he quipped.

     Betty shook her head and swallowed, “Not at all!” She sighed contentedly.

     Jughead hopped up onto Betty’s bed and sat cross-legged at the foot. He had missed her smile so much, and how she became so happy at the littlest things, and suddenly he had to tell her so. 

     “I missed you,” he blurted, catching Betty mid-bite.

     “I didn’t miss you,” Betty answered abruptly. 

     Jughead was taken aback. Betty saw the look on his face, and hurried to add, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” She laughed. “I didn’t ever miss you because you were with me the whole time!”

     “Really?!” said Jughead incredulously.

     “Yeah, you were a cat named Smudge!”

     “Well,” Jughead smiled, “I am both bewildered and flattered.”

      Betty laughed, then sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Jughead, did you read to me? Because I remember Smudge telling me a story, and it sounded familiar at the time, but now I can’t remember how it went.”

      “Yeah,” he paused, suddenly embarrassed. “I read  _ To Kill a Mockingbird _ to you.” Jughead was suddenly very interested in the threads of the blanket, “I mean, I saw you with it all the time in middle school; I just thought it might be nice to have, you know, something to dream about - if you were dreaming. I had no idea if you were or not, but I thought I’d better try anyway.” Jughead looked at Betty shyly. She was looking at him with a lopsided smile on her face, “What?” he asked.

     She shuffled forward on her bed, and kissed Jughead on the cheek tentatively. It was gentle, sweet, and it sent a warm wind flowing through Jughead’s heart. Betty shuffled back to her spot, grinning and blushing at Jughead.

     “What was that for?” he whispered, his voice suddenly raspy.

     She shrugged, and smiled even wider. “I’m just glad to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awww :')  
> I really enjoyed writing this story, it was so much fun! I hope you, dear reader, had fun reading it as well. 
> 
> It feels weird not to have to pick a day to update it, tbh
> 
> I have another bughead fanfic should you like to check it out, it's called A Traveler's Guide to Ireland (a Leap Year au)  
> but other than that, I think I'm done with the bughead fandom for right now.  
> It's been a hell of a ride, thanks for riding it with me!
> 
> I love you, have fun reading other fics!
> 
> Love,  
> welshyak


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